


Missing Flames

by natodiangelo



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Gen, Murder, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 02:16:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2007207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natodiangelo/pseuds/natodiangelo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The feeling in his stomach was still there, but it was something he thought he'd get used to with time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing Flames

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first chapter of something i want to continue cause it was fun to write but who knows  
> so much work went into this please read

He, being who he was, noticed everything around him. It was just something you do, if you did what he did.

That's how he noticed one red headed woman, no older than thirty, ordering the same drink (a white chocolate mocha) everyday at a coffee shop he also frequented. She was beautiful; her hair was almost bright enough to wonder if it was dyed, and her eyes were a lovely shade of dark brown. She was usually dressed in various dress suits; blazers that fit her perfectly and skirts that went down just to her knees, high heels topping it off. She carried herself with grace and confidence-something he always found attractive in women.

He also noticed the distinctive lack of a ring on her left hand.

That was why on a cloudy Tuesday morning, he, having taken note of the time she usually arrived, stepped into the shop a minute after. There was no line-one of the reasons he chose a Tuesday, a day where people are getting back into their weekly routine, and have time to make coffee at home before work. She stepped up and made her order (same as every other day), and he took a breath to ease himself.

He let out a little laugh, to which she turned to look at him a little. He tried to look a little embarrassed, and said, "That's what I was going to order. What a coincidence." She smiled back, and he let relief sweep through him. This would be easy.

"How funny." She said, then turned to grab gingerly grab her steaming cup. He went up next, but she still stood next to him.

"I'm Joyce." She said, extending her hand.

"Mark. Nice to meet you." He returned the gesture, and shook the appendage slightly before turning to the register, pulling out his wallet and handing over a few bills to the tired looking man, who took them then disappeared to make his drink.

Facing Joyce again, he asked whether she had the time to sit and enjoy their drinks together. She said she did with a merry look on her face, and once the guy returned with it in hand, they sat down at an empty table.

Joyce, he found out after roughly 45 minutes of talking, was a secretary at one of the local industries in their town. Normal secretary work, she said. Nothing too terribly interesting. A small laugh escaped her, and he found it incredibly cute.

He himself, he admitted, flustered, was unemployed, but going to college to for law. A prosecutor, he said he was aiming to be. She didn't care of his absence of work, and it also seemed she liked that he was back in education. She confessed that she wished she had stayed for longer, but said that her younger self had been impatient.

That prompted him to ask her age, twenty-seven, to which he replied with a modest thirty. He played a sheepish look when she said he looked much younger and gave an earnest 'thanks' and 'you too'.

After that, Joyce had look at her watch and, a bit remorseful, said that she had to take her leave. He pretended to have just noticed the time as well and acted surprised. He thanked her heartily for their chat, and she said she had also enjoyed it. With a final push of outward insecurity, he asked to exchange numbers. "Of course," she had said, switching phones to add their contacts. Then with a final grin and good bye, she left the shop.

He had rushed home after that to exclaim excitedly about the red headed beauty to his roommate David, who had been just as enthusiastic. They, being rather close after knowing each other nearly fifteen years, sat down to talk about all they had said, and what he would do if she were to agree to an actual date. His delight lasted a couple days, until he decided it had been long enough to call without seeming desperate.

(That was something David had keyed him in on, which, with his measly knowledge of dating and its workings, he was grateful for.)

Joyce had accepted his offer, and they set to meet up at this one fancy, but not too expensive restaurant twenty minutes into town.

(He would have been fine with somewhere simpler, but David had insisted, and he trusted his friend's judgement.)

Around six, she had said, and so here he was, sitting at a table he had reserved in a suit he had had for much too long without using. He had arrived maybe ten minutes early, but 'around six' was a vague term, and he had wanted to be safe. She showed up at 6:11. A black dressed was draped around her body, hugging every curve perfectly and exposing just enough of her shoulders without being indecent. Her hair was curled delicately and laid over one shoulder, standing out from the dark fabric. Her make up, something he wasn't all together ignorant of, was ideal. It made her eyes stand out and reddened her lips, and smoothed out her skin with a faint blush across her cheeks. It didn't, however, hide a single freckle hiding near her hairline, and he found it amazingly endearing.

She sat down across from him, smile in place as always.

"You look lovely." He said, as way of greeting, a soft grin of his own lighting his face.

"Thank you. You also look quite dashing." Another thanks of his own was said, and after, just idle chatter. They picked up their menus.

"This place is fancy." Joyce remarked, eyes scanning the selection of foods before her.

"I hadn't planned on somewhere like this to be honest. My roommate David recommended it. He said the food's really good." He replied.

"I think it's nice." It was nice: it was elegant, from the dark-white color scheme to the covered lights hanging above the tables, adding a glow to the whole place.

A waiter came by, and they placed their orders. He messed up in the pronunciation of his meal, and she giggled and corrected him, mindless to his flustered features. More small talk as they waited for their food, sipping a wine that was a bit too strong for him, he said, and focused more on the water.

He found his gaze catching on the sparkles in her hair when the light hit it just right; the way her lips moved as she talked, and how she couldn't seem to keep her hands still. How when she caught him staring, a small blush would appear on her face and she would go silent until he realized and responded. Her eyes always seemed to soften when he became bashful, he noticed. That was lucky, as it was something he was good at doing.

When their food came, conversation slowed minutely but was there nonetheless. She inquired about his life; his friend David, his family. How was school doing? He would answer, trying to add details though he was a man of few words. He would then ask the same of her. She, on the other hand, seemed to like talking, and had no trouble going on about her loved ones and home life, as well as those at her work. At one point, she had gone on a small rant about one of her bosses, who, albeit fair, seemed to dislike her. She explained that after she had started working there some three years ago there had been a mix up in the time schedules, and by mistake she had gone to work two hours late. Not knowing about the mishap, that boss thought it was simply an act of laziness, and had disliked her since (It might also have to do with an accident with coffee, she added, though wouldn't go into detail for "it was too embarrassing").

Dinner passed with surprising quickness and they chose dessert. After that, she seemed somewhat unwilling to let the night end, and he offered a walk.

"That's a wonderful idea," She said as they walked outside. There was a park close he knew, and from there they could see the sun as it set. Red and orange and yellow and above that blue, all mixing together. He led them onto one of the trails, and it contrasted greatly with the surrounding trees.

"It's beautiful," She said in awe, staring at the sky. He turned to her and wrapped her willing hand into his.

"Just like you." Pink grew on her face, and she smiled sheepishly. Using his other hand he slowly turned her head toward him and stared into her eyes. They had stopped walking, and he could hear her faint breath as she got closer.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked quietly, using a voice he knew she wouldn't resist.

"Yes." He leaned forward, closing his eyes as their lips touched. Hers were soft and plump, exactly as they had looked, and she pressed them to his with more force. He let his tongue come out and sweep across her bottom lip, a way known by everybody to be silently asking to make the kiss more intimate. She complied, her breath ghosting over his mouth before there was no space to do so. One hand moved to her back, lightly pressing her closer, and her own went around his neck. She kissed him passionately, and he kissed back.

He moved his other hand carefully into his coat, making sure to not rustle her too much. He didn't worry too much; she had had at least four glasses of wine while they ate, and it clearly buzzed her a little. His tongue swirled around her mouth, and he heard a small noise come from her. That was what he needed to hear. His hand curled around the handle just barely sticking out of his pants toward his back, and he slowly pulled it out. Then, in one swift motion, he brought it forward and into her back.  
She screamed, or would have if their mouths had not been plastered together. He felt her push against him, and stabbed again - this time in her neck. He watched the horror in her eyes fade to nothing as her heart stop beating, and caught her before she fell down. With the grace of something highly practiced, he wiped the blood on the knife onto her dress and stuck it back into the case in his pants.

There was a noise in the trees, and David emerged, rushing over to help with the body. They had planned this days ago, when he had first come home with the news of a red headed girl, and knew to be waiting around here for them to show up.

"The cars this way," David said, grabbed her legs and starting off. Mark followed expectantly. Soon they came across the vehicle-a 1995 Honda Civic, white in color-parked off to the side of the road. There were no cars passing, as this was a rarely used back road, perfect for their uses. The trunk was already open, with a blue tarp spread along the inside. They carefully set her down onto the tarp. David set about readying her body, slicing into her stomach and lungs. He added weights and wrapped it all in the tarp. Then he closed the trunk, and they got into the front of the car, David at the wheel.

"She was really into you." David remarked, having watched the whole scene waiting for Mark to make his move.

"Yeah. She was hot too. Shame." He sighed a little, and David laughed.

"You can still have a go at her if you want. I'll pull over and read while you do it."

"God that's gross." he pulled a face. "If she's dead, what's the fun in it."

"Can't say no." Mark groaned. "Doesn't care if you're kinky." Louder this time, throwing his head back against the seat. "Won't complain that you didn't let her come." That seemed to be the death stoke.

"You're so creepy, dude."

"You're the one who was throwing a fuss over her."

"That doesn't mean I wanna get with a corpse." He put a hand to his face. "Ugh. Whatever, just drop it. At least we weren't caught."

"Yet. We still need to get rid of her." David reminded, then leered. "You still have time before we get there, you know."

"I said drop it."

"Fine, fine. You're too serious; loosen up."

"We just murdered someone, and you're telling me to _loosen up_."

" _You_ just murdered someone, I'm just getting rid of the evidence."

Mark sighed. David was always like this. Never serious, always either cracking a joke or making a wise remark. He often wondered why he, somewhat hot tempered but overall serious Mark, had stayed friends with him.

David turned right and pulled over onto the left shoulder before leaving the car. They were on a cliff road, overlooking a large lake that connected with the ocean a ways out. There was quite a fall to reach the water, and it made Mark's stomach flip to look over the feeble wooden rail.

"Come over here." David commanded. Mark ambled over and grabbed the other end of the covered body. They hefted it up into their arms and shifted cautiously to the ledge, careful not to lose their footing least they fall into the water below.

"On three." David said, and Mark readied himself.

"One, two, three." And they both shoved the bundle out of their arms and into the air, watching as it made its descend and landed in the water with a splash.  
He wondered how long it would be until they found the body this time.

He wondered it they would be caught.

"Well, that's that." David sounded almost bored, and Mark had to question his friend's sanity once again. Even he was feeling some pull in his gut, some guilt. But, he supposed, that's just the kind of guy David is.

"Come on, let's go." They both climbed back in, quiet except for the hum from the car and the wind from David's cracked window. He cracked his own window and pulled a cigarette from the pack set between them.

"Where's the lighter?" He asked. David pulled it from his pocket and handed it to him, and he used it fast then gave it back. He took a long puff of it and let it out slowly.

The feeling in his stomach was still there, but it was something he thought he'd get used to with time.


End file.
